Until I Fall Asleep
by blainedevonsassmaster
Summary: Blaine tries to commit suicide. He ends up in a psychiatric ward, trying to put his life back together.
1. Prologue: Stay By My Side

**Hey guys, thanks so much for reading this! I'm sorry if this is really crap and unrealistic because I have never had any personal experience with suicide. This is just the prologue, there will be some better (fun, romantic?) stuff in the future. **

**WARNING: might be triggering, language.**

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**Until I Fall Asleep**

Blaine's body wracked with sobs as he tried to jam the keys for the door into the lock. "Fuck!" He yelled as the key missed the lock and engraved a line down the door where it slid. The rain was pelting at him, making his sobs seem non-existent over the sounds of the water hitting the ground. Blaine sighed in silent victory when the key finally slid and turned in the lock. He pulled the handle and kicked the door open.

Blaine stood there, water dripping from his clothes and hair onto the floor. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. The taunts still echoed in his head like music after a concert. No one was home, his Mum and Dad were at work and Cooper hadn't come to visit in a few months. Blaine was alone. He had been alone for his whole life but only then, at his lowest, did he ever realize. And it hurt. Blaine didn't want to be alone, but he was, and nothing he could ever do would change that. He had been unlucky enough to be alone since he was very young. The other kids never played with him, his parents paid more attention to Cooper, he got teased. Cooper had been the only one who cared, but now even he was gone.

Steadied hell or shattered reality? They were the only two choices Blaine could see. Keep going on everyday in this life that wasn't getting anywhere or just… break it. Blaine saw his life as a smashed window. One of those particularly artistic smashed windows, with the cracks webbed across the surface, but no single piece of glass had fallen.

The glass was falling.

Blaine dropped his bag on the floor and sprinted into the kitchen. He opened the medicine cabinet door so violently it almost flew off its hinges.

He pulled bottle after bottle out of the cabinet, all the pills escaping and laying on the counter. All the contents of the bottles were sitting patiently on the counter, waiting for Blaine for decide what to do.

It was like Blaine was driving down a one-way street; the only way was forwards. He couldn't turn around; there was no backing out now.

Blaine scooped up a handful of pills. He had no idea what they were, he only knew they could, and probably would, kill him.

He picked them up a few at a time, shoved them down his throat and took a sip of water to help swallow. He did it slowly, trying to make himself reconsider, but he couldn't.

He soon couldn't think straight; he just felt numb. His body started shaking uncontrollably and he started sweating. He didn't know how long it had been, how many pills he had taken, but it didn't matter anymore.

He started throwing up after a while. He was hunched over the toilet, shaking violently, his hands aching from holding the rim of the toilet and his knees bruising from the tile.

"Blaine!" he heard a soft cry from downstairs. His vision was going blurry and he could feel himself slipping.

"Blaine!" he heard again. He thought it was getting further away until he felt hands clamp around his shoulders.

"Hey, Coop." Blaine whispered quietly, before his body finally let him fall asleep.

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I know it's short, it will be longer next chapter I hope, please review.


	2. Chapter 1: Rules and Regulations

**Hey guys, thanks to everyone who's reading this 3 Please review and comment, because it will motivate me to write more.**

**Until I Fall Asleep**

**Chapter 1: Rules and Regulations**

As soon as Blaine gained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the stabbing pain in his stomach. "Fuck." He groaned quietly, complaining not only because of the pain but the fact he was still alive.

"Blaine, thank god. I thought you would never wake up!" Cooper rambled, grabbing Blaine's hand and squeezing it tightly.

Blaine cracked his eyes open, "I think that was the point." Blaine rasped; his throat raw.

Coopers lips tightened into a thin line, trying not to lash out at Blaine for being so stupid. Blaine looked so weak and disheveled. He was so pale his skin was almost translucent. His eyes were bloodshot and Cooper could see the sweat forming in his forehead. He was hooked up to an IV and he had numerous other cords and tubes hooked up around his body.

Blaine hadn't been conscious for the heartbreaking scenes Cooper had had to witness. Blaine falling limply into his arms, his body's steady convulsions suddenly stopping. He hadn't had to witness the doctors pull him into the ambulance. And watching them pump black liquid containing charcoal from his almost lifeless body.

Now here he was. And was not appreciative in the slightest of what everyone had gone through to save him.

Cooper's thoughts were forgotten as his mother and father walk solemnly into the room.

"Well, hello members of my pity party. So glad you could make it. Now please leave me in peace to contemplate why god must hate me so to not grant me access to his pearly gates."

"Blaine Anderson. You stop it right now." Their mother said strictly.

"Y'know what? No, I won't. I just tried to _kill myself _all you want to do is act like nothing happened." Blaine said darkly.

Blaine's father scowled, "We are not going to grant you your every wish solely because you were idiotic enough to try and end your own life."

Cooper snapped, "You are not doing this now! There is obviously something wrong. He's not doing this for attention, so if you want to blame him for this would you please leave!"

Blaine's father grabbed his wife's hand and dragged her out of the room.

"They're some of the most charming people I've ever met." Blaine quipped sarcastically.

"Stop it. You never used to be like this."

"Yeah," Blaine whispered, "Well, a lot has changed."

Blaine huffed and crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler as Cooper tried to drag him into the building.

"I hate you." Blaine stated simply.

Cooper smirked, "I love you too, and that's why I'm doing this."

"Bullshit." Blaine muttered.

The wheels of Blaine's bag jumped over the gravel on the driveway of Clearview Psychiatric Hospital. "So this is what hell looks like."

"Be nice, B" Cooper whispered, pulling the door open for Blaine.

"Bite me!" Blaine yelled, getting everyone's attention.

"Hi." An overly happy looking woman, which was ironic considering where she worked, walked up to the pair. "My name's Margo and you must be Blaine." She smiled, looking directly at Blaine and holding out her hand expectantly.

Margo was quite young, maybe only a few years older than Blaine. She had short, black, choppy hair with bangs almost covering her bright, sparkling green, heavily eyelined eyes.

"Humph." Blaine huffed, not making an attempt to shake Margo's hand.

"Sorry about him." Cooper apologized.

"It's OK." Margo said kindly, "We've seen worse." Margo gestured to Blaine and Cooper to follow her. "So, there are a few things the nurses want you to know before you get settled here. " Margo said as she led Blaine and Cooper down a drab white hallway. There were quite a few nurses trying to sneak a look at Blaine without him noticing, which was obviously not working.

"Number 1; basic manners go a long way. Just a simple please and thank you is truly appreciated and will definitely put you in our good books. Number 2; we don't make the rules. We have no say in what the rules are, and we only follow them, so please don't come whining to us if you don't like a rule, because we can't do anything about it. Number 3; we're not ignoring you. It can sometimes get really busy here, so if we forget about your request for a pencil or clean towels, we're sorry, there's just a lot that needs to be done and sometimes we forget. Number 4; we hate strip-searches as much as you do. It is not fun for us. The only reason we do strip-searches is to make sure that both you and the other patients are as safe as possible. Number 5; don't ask us when you're going home. We have no idea. The only person who is going to have any idea of when you'll be leaving is your doctor, so please don't come asking us when you're leaving, because we really don't know. Number 6; help us help you. If you don't tell us what's wrong, we can't help you. Instead of throwing a rage and screaming obscenities at us, why don't you sit down and tell us the problem. Something caused you to come here and you may as well make the most of your time here. Number 7; we know when you're faking. We have the most patient interaction; it's our job to get to know you. You don't need to use theatrics to get our attention. Just be honest about what's bugging you and we'll do what we can to help. If we see that you're med-seeking or manipulative, we're going to warn the rest of the staff. Please don't play games with us—it's tiresome for staff and only hurts you in the long run. Don't give us a reason not to trust you. Number 8; many of us have been in a situation similar to yours. Most people who go into the mental health field have a good reason for doing so. It's not a job people apply to just for the hell of it, and we certainly didn't decide to become mental health nurses for the money. More staff than you would expect have struggled with mental illnesses, or have mentally ill loved ones. Number 9; don't assume we're uneducated. The majority of us have college degrees. Some of us are working to become a higher rank in the medical field, or some of us just love being a nurse so much that we're comfortable staying where we are. Number 10; don't bully our coworkers. The staff in a psychiatric hospital are a team, and can even become close-knit enough to feel like a family. All of us rely on one another for something. Such an emotionally-charged environment brings us together and encourages cooperation and loyalty. Sure, we don't like every single one of our colleagues, but we'll still stick up for them anyway. We work really hard to make sure your needs are met, and would never do anything to disrespect you. So please don't jump down your nurse's throat, because we'll call you out on it. Number 11; don't ask us for medication. Everything has to be ordered by your doctor. We can assist you in finding and talking to the right person. Number 12; we're observant. Part of our job is to keep track of behaviors you might take for granted. For example, we have to record whether or not you shower regularly, how much you eat at each meal, and how you act during group activities. This helps your treatment team spot patterns in your behavior that might indicate a problem. We also have to document your location during regular and frequent intervals, which we know is annoying, especially throughout the night. Try not to take it personally—there's a reason for everything we do, we don't stare at or bug you because it's fun, and that's safety, a word you'll get sick of hearing as a patient. We're trained to pick out even the tiniest details, like if you're hiding your hands under the table or if your plastic knife suddenly isn't on your dinner tray anymore. Number 13; don't ask us about the other patients. Confidentiality applies to everyone—it's not our place to disclose anyone's business. If you're really dying to know, just ask them yourself. Number 14; Hollywood is crap. Psychiatric facilities are not anything like what you see in the movies or on TV. It's complete crap. Movies and TV make mental hospitals seem like the seventh circle of hell. Yes, there are some really awful facilities out there—but the majority are meant to be places of protection and sanctuary. You're not going to be sedated, restrained, and tossed into seclusion for cussing someone out. You practically have to be on a face-punching spree to have anything like that happen. We have to file elaborate incident reports every time someone's restrained, sedated, or secluded. So if that really happened for things like cussing someone out, we would be chained to our computers for an eternity because we'd ALWAYS be writing incident reports. Also, you can't escape through the ventilation system or by dressing up in random scrubs and pretending to be staff. That's just bullshit. And finally, Number 15; believe it or not, we do actually care. While there is a lot of tough stuff to deal with-yeah, getting screamed at or chased by naked people isn't really the highlight of my day-, the positive always wins out in the end. If I can stop someone from hurting themselves, put a smile on a patient's face, or provide some sort of reassurance for a distraught parent or visitor, it makes everything else worth it."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Blaine cracked a small smile.

"Well, I have always hated doing that." Margo said softly as she escorted Blaine out of the room.

"I can see why," Blaine said darkly, "They were looking at me like I was a monster."

Margo smiled sadly and clamped a hand on Blaine's shoulder, "No matter how many times we do that, we never get used to the scars."

Blaine huffed. "Where are you taking me?"

Margo was leading Blaine down a series of identical white hallways that smelt like antiseptic and vomit. Margo giggled, "I am taking to the land of unicorns and rainbows."

"If you actually are, I will be tempted to attempt to kill myself for a second time." Blaine groaned.

Margo looked at Blaine for a split-second with concern, before switching her eye-sight to the floor, "No, I don't think the people you're about to meet would be very thrilled with unicorns and rainbows either."

Blaine was about to protest any social interaction with the other patients but Margo turned him into their destination.

It was a simple room, dark blue carpets, cream-coloured walls, black leather couches situated around a TV and a coffee table. On the couches, were… well, people. Blaine could see some short, badly dyed pink hair, shoulders with dark skin stretched tightly across them so you could see the bones, fiddling fingers and a lot of long sleeves. The girl with the pink hair turned at the sound of someone walking into the room.

"Well, shit just got interesting."


End file.
